


Harry Potter and the Black and White Crisis

by i_amtheoutlaw



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (oops draco may have a secret kink and snape may crush his dreams), Bottoming from the Top, Drarry, Exhibitionism, Fingering, Gender Themes, Harry has this kind of fetish ok, Height difference, Hogwarts Era, M/M, One Shot, Though Maybe 6th if You're into the Obsessed!Harry Thing, and Skin and Malfoy and Claiming, and a little possessiveness and PDA sprinkled over all that, and kinks and tropes, both boys are virgins, bottom!Draco, dumbstruck!Harry, fits best w/ 5th year, i know i am, lets just say i stuffed this one full of fetishes, pushy!Draco, with thighs and heels and hair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2566130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amtheoutlaw/pseuds/i_amtheoutlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Draco Malfoy is gender fluid and Harry Potter only has one question about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Potter and the Black and White Crisis

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags. Seriously: the tags. I’m one kinky b ok
> 
> This is my first go at writing anything for the HP fandom and its never been beta read. Don't judge me.
> 
>  
> 
> **updated 12/18/17

The clatter of wooden doors against a stone wall caused Harry to twitch and turn toward the entrance way. It was Draco Malfoy who strode into the Great Hall for breakfast, and Harry sat stunned as his eyes followed the lone figure. Though Harry was not alone in his stupefied state. It seemed the entire hall, students and professors alike, had taken a collective gasp and were terrified to let any air back out.

Malfoy, in the same arrogant way as always, glided toward the Slytherin table like not a thing possibly could have been amiss. His pointy nose was so turned up it was practically perpendicular to the ceiling and he still wore that snotty little sneer on his face.

Even after Malfoy slid into the seat next to Pansy and poured himself a glass of water, the hall was completely silent and motionless. It wasn't until Snape groaned out loud did the entire hall blink as one unit and process what the fuck they just witnessed. 

Pansy seemed to recover quickly and chuckled out a breath, whispering something in Malfoy's ear that Harry couldn't have heard. Malfoy and Pansy grinned evilly at each other and all Slytherin seemed to grin with them. Matter of fact, after that all the Slytherin students seemed to relax and move on with breakfast as if everything was completely normal. As if they were all used to seeing Draco Malfoy this way every day. 

Well, the entire hall may have sparked with chatter at that point, but Harry found himself stuck in the blinking stage of processing this new information. He felt as if everything he had ever learned was a lie. Harry felt manipulated, cheated, and wronged. Across from Harry, Ron grinned manically with a gleam of pure amusement in his eye. Harry could only blink back at his best mate.

"I don't know how I didn't see it before," Ron was saying. "Brilliant. Bloody brilliant."

Harry blinked again.

"Honestly, Ron," drawled Hermione from Ron's side. "If anything, this completely changes my perception of Malfoy. It certainly proves he's less of the little coward I've always thought him to be. He's got to have a back bone to brave those heels on this floor--Harry, honey, are you breathing?!"

Harry absently shook his head, no, he wasn't breathing. He hadn't taken a breath since Malfoy appeared. 

Hermione reached across the table and smacked him hard. Harry not only blinked, but managed a strangled breath too. It was progress. 

"Ma--Mal--Malfoy," Harry stuttered. "Has thighs."

"What?" Ron questioned, his brows furrowed. "Course he's got legs, mate! You've seen him ride a broom."

Harry thought about that for a moment before his eyes blew quite large. 

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed and Ron's attention snapped to her instead.

"What? What is it, Mione?" he asked. "What's gotten into Harry?"

"Oh, Ron," she sighed again and went back to reading _A Critique of Pure Absurdity_. She'd been meaning to ask the headmaster why they didn't study this sort of magical philosophy there at Hogwarts. It was quite interesting. Though, today, it looked like she would have other matters to deal with instead. 

****

Potions was one giant disaster (as was Snape’s entire life, really, but that was not the point right now). Harry hadn't noticed, because he was too busy staring at Malfoy. In fact, Harry had been so busy staring at Malfoy that he'd completely skipped out on taunting Malfoy as the other had strode in. Instead of calling him something insulting like all the other Gryffindor boys had done, Harry had only drooled on the table a little bit. Snape had started off the lesson with five points from Gryffindor for Harry's drool, but fifty for the name calling. 

"Mr. Potter," drawled Snape, and Harry's eyes swiveled to the front where Snape stood sneering at him. "Would you please inform us as to what color this potion is supposed to be?"

"Er . . ." said Harry as he blinked down at his blank notes. He looked back up to Snape and guessed. "Platinum . . ."

"Platinum?" Snape growled. "Honestly, Potter--"

"Like milky white," Harry cut off his enraged professor. Harry’s eyes were wide and unfocused as he stared somewhere to the left of Snape's head. "Or like cream or clear or just pale . . . white. Definitely light," he decided on finally. "So much light."

"Potter!" Snape boomed, his tone utterly disgusted. "The potion is supposed to end up a deep midnight purple! Twenty points from Gryffindor for blatantly ignoring my every word!"

Harry heard a nasty snicker from behind and his eyes instantly flicked back to Malfoy's face . . . then Malfoy’s thighs. Snape was completely forgotten to Harry for the rest of the day. 

Unfortunately for Snape, this was not likewise.

****

Harry thought that lunch was going much better, though it was clear to anyone with eyes (which Harry seemed to have his occupied at the moment) that things were only getting worse.

Malfoy was smiling a lot even though he'd spent most of the morning getting teased. Harry was watching Malfoy smile a lot, and neither Hermione or Ron had gotten Harry to respond to a single question since Malfoy stepped into the Great Hall for lunch. Of course, Harry hadn't even realized his friends were speaking. 

"Do you think he's wearing like--y'know?" Harry asked them finally. 

"What, mate?" Ron replied, exasperated, but still grasping on to any conversation he could have with his best mate. "Girl clothes? Really slutty girl clothes? Make up? High heels? Yes, Malfoy totally is wearing all that. Now, could you please get over it? It's getting a bit weird, Harry." 

"No, I didn't mean his clothes. I mean like . . . his y'know? His pants? Do you think he's got on--"

"Oh, Merlin, no!" Ron screeched. 

"--knickers?" Harry finished, a hopeful sparkle in his green eyes as he looked away from Ron and focused on Malfoy again. 

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione drawled slowly as she waited for Harry to look at her. When he did, she continued, "why don't you go over there and find out?"

Harry blinked at her for a moment while Ron wildly protested the idea.

"You mean like," Harry paused and gulped. "Ask him or something?"

"Well . . . maybe start with something a bit . . . simpler?" Hermione suggested.

"Like what?"

"Like . . . maybe you should just tell him what you think about his outfit? Then maybe he'll be more prone to ending your curiosity, yeah? If he knows you're not looking to tease him about it."

"Yeah," replied Harry. "That makes sense."

"None of this makes sense!" claimed Ron, but he was ignored completely as Harry stood and made to cross the hall.

For a moment, Hermione watched Malfoy pretending to miss Harry approach. Then she sighed and went back to her reading. She could admit to herself, it might not have made any sense. One wouldn’t have thought she’d fancy knowing anything about Malfoy’s knickers or what business Harry had with them. However, if there was one absurdity she found herself interested in, it was Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and one pair of knickers.

Her bet, they were black and silky.

****

Draco saw Harry Potter approaching the Slytherin table from miles away, but Draco acted like he hadn't noticed the other until Potter had cleared his throat right behind him.

"Potter," Draco drawled without turning. He couldn't have been too sure what the scarhead actually wanted from him. Unlike most of the idiot Gryffindors, Potter was yet to comment on Draco's choice of wardrobe. It was a bit . . . completely frightening waiting for the other shoe to drop. " _Finally_ managed to think of an insult I take it?" Draco asked, and kept any nerves he may have felt from tainting his voice.

Beside him, Pansy giggled and ignored Potter completely when Draco knew she rather would have been hexing his balls off and done with it already. Draco also knew he was forever indebted to her for being such a support. On the other side of him, Draco sensed the exact moment when Crabbe and Goyle swallowed their last bites of chicken and swelled themselves up to full size. All the other Slytherins looked as if they'd hex Potter if he said one wrong word, which, though the thought was nice, didn't actually make anything better. It seemed Potter was planning to ignore their hostility anyway. From straight across from him, Zabini, Draco noticed, ignored both Potter and everyone else in favor of glaring daggers at Draco instead.

'Don't fuck this up,' Blaise mouthed and went back to his breakfast right as Potter cleared his throat again.

"Malfoy," Potter started. "I—um—I just wanted to say that you look amazing today."

Draco blinked. Rapidly. A few forks clattered against plates. One of them may have been Draco's own fork. Not Zabini's fork though, Draco took care to note. Blaise happily munched on his potatoes. Hmm, Draco was suspicious of the other snake’s intentions of course, but Blaise clearly knew something that Draco was ignorant to. Draco would be a fool not to heed the warning. Draco would not fuck up whatever it was Zabini thought Draco would. That, Draco was sure of. 

Slowly, Draco lifted his legs over the bench, crossed them, and faced the Boy Who Lived. "Potter, that was the worst insult I've ever heard," said Draco, still sappy slow, as he placed his elbows behind him on the table and leaned back. 

"Good. I was trying to give you a compliment."

"Why?" questioned Draco, on full alert now. Next to him, he felt Pansy tense as well. Blaise softly chuckled in the background. 

"Er--well--Hermione said I should--um--tell you what I think before I--er--askedyousomething."

Draco raised an eyebrow at the super articulate Golden Boy. "Well, spit it out then, Potter . . ." he drawled.

"Okay," said Potter, before he suddenly leaned down into Draco's personal space. Draco smelled sweaty tang, broomsticks, and burnt wood all before Potter's mouth reached Draco's ear and he whispered, "have you got on knickers, Malfoy?" quietly enough that Draco was sure not even Pansy had heard what he'd said.

Draco felt frozen in place while Harry quickly pulled back. Potter’s face flamed so hot it looked as though Draco might have hexed it that way. Potter took a step away, but in the end, didn't flee. Like he was too worried about knowing the answer. 

"I'm not about to tell you that, Potter!" Draco spat, indignant. 

"Please," Harry Potter begged. 

"Oh my . . . Merlin, Potter! Why do you even care?!" 

Potter's eyes widened. "I don't really care . . . more like . . . hoped?"

"Hoped?" Draco asked with a flat tone. 

Potter eyed Draco up and down. Harry took in coal-covered eyelids, long dark eyelashes, and brushed pinked cheekbones. He took in Malfoy's completely obscene version of the girls' Hogwarts uniform. The way the crisp white button down and grey sweater stretched tightly across Malfoy’s broad chest and pointy shoulders. Malfoy’s pleated skirt was all black and fit him perfectly. Though, Harry thought that Malfoy's skirt was shorter than most of the other girls’ plaid ones. Especially as he was sitting, and showed off about four inches of smooth pale skin dusted in cloud white hairs. The rest of his legs were lost to long black socks. Harry swallowed as he eyed the dark, velvety heels on Malfoy's feet. Instead of thin and strappy like the muggle high heels Harry had seen, these were clunky looking, laced up the front with a silk ribbon, and stopped right at Malfoy's ankle. 

"Hoped . . ." Harry started, his mouth dry. "Definitely."

Malfoy stood, his arms akimbo. With the extra four or five inches, Malfoy was easily a full head taller than Harry was himself. Malfoy took a step closer to Harry, so that his sharp hip bones ghosted against Harry’s jumper. He looked down at Harry with one brow arched high. “Really, now, Potter?” he said, more than asked.

Harry could have only swallowed around the thick air, let Malfoy drag him from the Great Hall, and watched how that stupid little swagger Harry had always hated so much made Malfoy's backside sway in a truly unforgivable way.

****

The rest of the day went much more pleasantly. McGonagall was not subject to the same torture that Snape had been, as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy had both disappeared after lunch and missed her class entirely. For the time being, Hermione was able to focus better, and Ron was able to tell himself that Harry and Malfoy had possibly hexed themselves silly and ended up in the hospital wing. Though, he hadn’t bothered to check.

“Nughh, Potter,” Malfoy hissed as Harry sucked on his neck and continued unbuttoning Malfoy’s white shirt, which was now wrinkled from being smashed between Harry’s body and what Harry hoped was Malfoy’s bed. 

They found themselves in the dungeons because Malfoy claimed he wasn’t walking up a billion bloody steps in those heels just to be disappointed by Harry Potter. Though when Malfoy had said that, Harry noticed Malfoy hadn’t let go of Harry’s hand or slowed to sneer at him even. In a lesser than great moment, the statement had resulted in Harry pointing a quick swish and flick Malfoy’s way, swooping him up, and carrying him all the way to the Slytherin portrait hole kicking and screaming.

The second they stepped into the boy dormitories, Harry had been all over Draco – touching, kissing, and feeling everywhere. Harry wasn’t quite sure what had come over himself, but something about Malfoy made it so easy to just . . . want and take it. Ten minutes before, Harry had been worried about sating his curiosity. Five minutes after that, Harry had been worried about kissing Malfoy. In this moment, Harry found himself worried about doing _everything_ with Malfoy. Draco wasn’t sure what had come over Potter either, but he found himself liking every second with this new side of the Golden Boy. 

Potter had these hands. They just gripped Draco and warmed him to the bone, and he found himself trying to resist melting in Potter’s arms. It was turning out to be quite the task. Potter had already stripped him of his jumper, pushed him flat back on the bed, and untucked his shirt. As Potter made to take the shirt off him, Draco forced himself into stopping Potter on the last button. 

“Wait, Potter,” Malfoy said, and Harry stilled, his mouth hovering right over Malfoy’s Adam’s apple as he felt long fingers grip his wrist. “Why are you really doing this?” he whispered, and Harry pulled back to look at him with a confused frown. “I’m not a girl, Potter, you know that right? I mean . . . call me a girl all you like, I’m just saying I dress and act however I feel like and that’s not going to change just because Harry Potter likes me in a skirt. Sometimes, I don't want to wear a skirt and well . . . even when I do I’m not a different person. Like at all.”

“I think I can deal with that,” Potter answered cryptically and went right back to attacking Draco’s neck, and Draco couldn’t find the will to push Potter’s wet lips away from his skin twice. 

“Merlin, you’re like an animal, Potter,” growled Draco, instead of stopping Potter when he sucked much too roughly on Draco’s neck then practically ripped the shirt from Draco’s body. 

Potter murmured his agreement into Draco’s skin, and his hot breath on Draco’s neck somehow chilled the rest of Draco’s body into frozen compliance. Draco waited for the other shoe to drop, though Potter hadn’t stopped his movements. He was still messily making his way down Draco’s throat and chest, doing things beyond kissing that made Draco flushed red and left him writhing. Harry finally paused and sucked in a surprised breath as his lips met with something other than Malfoy’s soft skin. He pulled back, first seeing a blur of black and white and soon understanding it was a black silk bra. The material so thin, but so very dark against Malfoy’s so very pale skin. 

Wrapping around Malfoy’s every point and lying perfectly across his flat chest, the item was without a doubt made especially for him. Instead of halting Harry in his tracks, thoughts of Malfoy being a spoiled little brat about his knickers made Harry’s cock twitch inside his pants and he groaned aloud. 

“Jesus, Malfoy,” panted Harry, one of his hands reaching up, the tips of his fingers running along the black fabric right over the slight curve of Malfoy’s nipple.

Draco knew. He did know that silk, his sensitive nipples, and those Potter fingers were going to be a dastardly combination. Draco still hadn’t been prepared for the actual pleasure shooting through his every nerve. Draco became the animal, wildly bucking into Potter’s hard body, at the first tentative touch.

“Potter, fuck,” hissed Draco, and Potter had him pressed flat against the bed suddenly. One of his hands held Draco in place while the other one disappeared. Draco glanced down and saw Potter palming roughly at the front of his own trousers. 

“You sound--everything,” Harry gasped, as he stroked himself almost painfully. Harry was probably making a fool of himself but in that moment, he couldn’t have told up from down. 

“Mmm, Potter,” Malfoy wriggled, impatient, as he smacked Harry’s hand away from himself, placed said hand back on his own nipple, and then reached to run elegant fingers down the length of Harry’s straining hardness. Harry very nearly died for a moment but got the point. 

Harry went straight to pinching the pebbles between his finger tips and Malfoy squeezed hard around Harry's cock every time he did it. Malfoy's head was soon thrown back and his lips bitten red. Harry found himself relenting. If only to rid Malfoy of his skirt.

Draco felt Potter messing with the little clasp on his skirt. Panting, Draco bit his own lip to keep from whining aloud as Potter unfastened it, slowly bent his legs up, and slid the material completely off him. Potter gasped at the sight of Draco's matching black knickers full of something the Golden Boy surely wasn’t used to seeing. With a shaking hard, Potter stroked at the line of Draco's bulging cock after a moment of hesitation. Draco watched Potter's face as Potter touched him. He felt Potter thumb at the wet spot covering his slit and saw Potter lick his own bottom lip while he did it, like Potter was seconds away from tasting him. Potter made to bend down and Draco had to shut his eyes, thinking he couldn't have handled the sight of it. However, Potter to a sudden detour; pulled one of Draco's socks down, threw Draco’s heel clad foot over his shoulder, and was sucking on Draco's calf. 

Draco hadn't thought Potter would have been interested in his legs since he never bothered to rid them of their hair. After all, Potter liked the more feminine side of Draco, that much was clear. Though, Potter wasn't wavered in the slightest, he made his way up Draco's leg, licking, biting, and sometimes taking the hairs between his teeth and tugging, until he'd reached the palest, smoothest, and highest point on Draco's thigh. Only then did Potter get back on track and mouth at Draco’s hardness through the silk until he was sopping wet with Potter’s spit. 

"Mmm, black," Potter murmured along Draco’s cock. "So, so much black."

“Yes, black,” Malfoy moaned, and thrust up into Harry’s face, which caused his tongue to flatten over the silk covering Malfoy’s tip, so he could feel every ridge. “The question is, Potter, do you want black . . . or white?” drawled Malfoy, as he slipped a thumb under the silk, shimmed his hips until the knickers slipped down past them, and his cock was freed to slap against his pale belly. 

Even though Malfoy was flushed an angry red with his arousal and the only thing that Harry could have focused on was said arousal, Harry got the point. 

Black. Black was good, so good, but white. In this instance, white might have been better. 

With those thoughts, Harry growled, slipped the knickers down Malfoy’s legs, past the heels, and threw them across the room.

****

Snape's life was really a disaster, but in retrospect he should have seen it coming with that white and creamy comment. 

Everything was Potter's fault, naturally. 

Apparently, the boy had seemed to take an 'interest' in Draco at lunch, and then the two disappeared together. Snape had a feeling Potter was up to no good. It didn't seem like Harry Potter to take such a trick too far, Snape knew Potter would never go there, but Snape didn't doubt that he could still very well go far enough to hurt Draco, today of all days. 

Snape's suspicions had been confirmed as a first year Slytherin boy came flailing into his afternoon potions class panting out a tail about screaming Draco Malfoys, Harry Potter shoulders, common rooms, and knickers. 

Of course, this was how Snape found himself in the doorway to the boy's dorms, staring at Potter's bare arse and Draco in women’s undergarments. Snape had literally walked in right as Potter kicked his own trousers to the floor, climbed on hands and knees, and took Draco's cock in his mouth. 

Potter hadn’t noticed him, but . . . Snape's eyes narrowed and quickly honed in on Draco's face. The foolish boy propped his head up with one arm, smirked widely, and merrily held Snape’s gaze. Snape glared at him like he was an idiot. Snape was about to turn when suddenly Potter had his wand out. What? Now the boy was going to hex Draco? Snape wondered. Then Potter cast _Accio lube_. Before Snape could have arched a proper eyebrow, Potter had lubed fingers running along Draco's arse and Draco's eyes were wide as they shot back and forth between where Snape stood and where Potter's mouth was wrapping around his cock once more. Though Draco’s body still betrayed his excitement by writhing quite violently with what could have only been pleasure. Potter didn't seem to have any technique as he swallowed Draco down and slipped one finger inside, but for what it was worth, Snape could admit that Draco, at least, was quite taken with it. 

It seemed Potter went for another and Draco fisted at the sheets, threw his head back, and groaned, "fuck, Potter!" before he regained some composure, lifted it his head, and threw Snape a hard glare. Though his eyes quickly snapped back to Potter as the other boy spoke.

"That's what I want to do," said Potter, panting, as he pulled off. "Fuck you, Malfoy. So bad, but I don't even know what I'm doing. I’ve never done anything like this. Is this all right?"

Potter gazed up at Draco and the boy gaped, then quickly shut his mouth. Luckily, he managed not to look toward Snape once even though Snape could tell that he’d really wanted to. Eventually, Draco made a sort of desperate noise, grabbed Potter up by the hair, and guided Potter's mouth toward his own cock. "Don't make me say it, Potter," Draco moaned, all the while glaring at Snape and throwing him a rude gesture with his free hand. 

Snape smirked widely at Draco and then turned and left the room. 

****

Snape’s day went on much better after that and he returned to potions class highly disturbed, but slightly amused. Harry continued fucking his fingers in and out of Malfoy none the wiser, and Draco was really mortified that his Godfather the Death Eater had just seen him agreeing to bottom for Harry Potter, but the humility didn’t stop him from pushing himself back and riding Potter’s fingers, not even for a second. 

Malfoy was tight around Harry’s fingers, so tight that Harry was almost scared to push in a third. Okay, he was completely scared. He feared everything that he was doing and everything that was about to happen. Malfoy seemed to be loving everything Harry was doing. Though Harry still felt like he wasn't doing anything right. His teeth kept scraping Malfoy's cock and he hadn't a clue what to do with Malfoy's balls so he just sort of rubbed at them and pushed them aside. It didn't help matters that Harry kept thinking Malfoy must have had better than him before. Malfoy always had better things than Harry. 

When Malfoy started slapping at the mattress, Harry finally let his third finger slide in shortly a few times next to the other ones. Before Harry knew what had happened, Malfoy thrust himself last knuckle deep around all three fingers. 

Potter’s mouth slipped off Draco’s cock with an obscene pop and he seemed content to just stare at Draco’s rim swallowing his fingers up. Draco was fine with this, really, as he’d been much too close to losing himself all down the Boy Who Lived’s throat. 

Those thoughts had Draco halting in his tracks. He saw his own legs bent and spread, Potter panting over his neglected sack, and decided in that moment he wasn’t going to cum before Harry Potter did. 

Harry whined as Malfoy’s tightness disappeared suddenly and left his fingers cold. Then Harry yelped as long, strong limbs maneuvered him flat on his back against the mattress. Malfoy loomed over him, one of those perfect fucking thighs closing in Harry’s hips on both sides, and he pinned Harry to the bed with a tight grip on his shoulders. Harry was literally incapable of thinking, moving, or doing anything besides kiss Malfoy back as the other fell on top of him, sloppily brought their mouths together, and slid his slippery arse all along Harry’s hardness. 

Draco had to break the kiss and roughly squeeze at the base of his own cock, because his plan was failing already. He couldn’t have helped it, because that was Potter’s cock he felt against his backside. Harry Potter’s perfect cock that was lubed up now, rubbing against his arse, and ever so slightly pushing against his rim. It was the cock that Draco was about to fuck, a cock that was going to be inside him any second. Draco whined without meaning to. He just couldn’t believe that Potter was actually going through with it. That Potter actually wanted to fuck him.

“Please,” Malfoy breathed. 

Potter looked up at him with lost eyes that Draco couldn’t decipher, but it seemed that Potter got the point as he gripped Draco’s hips, guided Draco up, and lined his cock with Draco’s hole. Potter paused to flick the tip against Draco’s stretched rim a few times before he gently pressed in.

“I--I can’t,” Potter hissed, ceasing all movement. “Shit, Malfoy. You’re so fucking--fuck--tight.” 

The admission excited Draco a little too much and he sank down too fast; the head of Potter’s cock popping inside him all at once and what felt like inches more. Though, most likely wasn't due to how small the movement had been. The feel of Harry stunned Draco at first and he tensed up, but it seemed Potter was coiled just as tight. Draco didn’t understand how it could have possibly burned that much after being so stretched by those wonderful Potter fingers. Plus, Draco wanted it so bad and he’d felt so ready and needy beforehand. 

Draco had been thinking about someone fucking him open for what seemed like ages. He knew beyond a doubt that he wanted it and that it would be fucking amazing. So Draco was surprised by the intensity of the ripping sting that came along with Potter’s cock, hard as a rock, inside him.

Below him, Potter seemed to have some issues breathing, but Draco didn’t actually hear him panting, because there was a loud buzz that started out softly in his ears, moved down his spine, and ended up strongly thrumming in his arse. It was very distracting.

“Fuck,” Draco breathed, and Potter nodded jerkily, his glasses flopping off his face and falling to the bed. Potter made no move to right them. 

He’d felt pain worse, Draco told himself, because the sensation really just . . . knocked his breath out of him in a totally absurd way. He felt so full. He was just so _stretched_.

Harry managed to bring an arm up and run his fingers through Malfoy’s mused hair as he watched Malfoy balancing over him with just the very tip of Harry’s dick inside of him. Even without his glasses, Harry realized that Malfoy's own dick had started to soften, and he forced himself to trail his hand down Malfoy’s body until he reached Malfoy’s cock. Harry wrapped it up and slowly started stroking with as much strength as he could have mustered with his trembling arm.

It was easy for Draco to focus on the good parts of the full feeling in his arse with Harry's hand stroking his cock. Soon enough, the pain faded, and Draco found himself relaxing again. Instead of waiting for Potter to thrust into him, Draco slowly lowered himself a little bit at a time. It still hurt but Draco didn’t have time to be put off, because before he knew it he’d bottomed Harry Potter out, and his stretched-out rim rested against Potter’s wild, untrimmed pubes. God, Draco preened at the thought and had a fleeting urge to comment on what his father would have said about it.

“Oh my--fuck--Potter,” Draco breathed instead. In that moment, Draco couldn’t have said if he was completely relaxed and only being supported by Potter or if every muscle in his body was flexed tight. All Draco knew was Potter’s cock, his own arse hole, and the rush of prickly heat washing over his neck and back.

Somehow, Draco knew that his own cock was still hard thanks to Potter stroking it, but Draco barely felt that because he was too busy feeling Potter inside him. It still burned, but it was never really the pain that had Draco wound tight and now Draco kind of liked the sting. The feeling of Potter inside him was still so foreign and strange, because Potter was harder than anything Draco had ever felt, and Draco swore that he could hear Potter’s heartbeat in his own arse. It was strange but good, very good, and all Draco could do for a moment was give Potter’s cock an exploratory squeeze.

Potter made a broken sound, and the noise threw Draco back to real life to the image of Potter underneath him, his eyes squeezed shut, and his mouth parted. That was more like it, Draco thought as he rocked back. The movement ripped another satisfying noise out of Potter, but the angle was wonderful for Draco and he burned so hot the air around him became a cold caress.

Draco found his smirk as his hands reached behind him and gripped onto Potter’s thighs.

After Draco lifted and sank back down, the smirk was lost, but Draco wasn't sure if Potter had ever seen it anyway. Draco couldn't have said his own name let alone remembered his plan to not let Potter beat him. Draco had no problem, however, saying Potter's name as he couldn't have stopped mumbling it, but this was mostly because Potter was a mess underneath him and it was quite the sight. Draco kept working himself up and down on Potter’s hardness almost absently. It felt so interesting, new, and good . . . and Draco had finally gotten what he wanted. Even as Potter’s hand left his cock to fist in the sheets instead, Draco barely noticed because he was finally learning what was so good about rock hard cocks and having them inside him. Every time Draco moved Potter scratched something inside of Draco that was so much better than an itch.

Then Potter moved. Just a small, tiny readjustment of his hips. He slid and pressed up into Draco at the same time that Draco sank downward.

The movement had Draco’s vision flashing white, and he may have mewled a bit pathetically as Harry kept hitting that sweet spot inside of him. Draco gave in and just bounced then. As fast as he could have. The friction felt like it was starting a fire inside him and the flames were pooling low in his gut. 

Draco didn’t have any warning before he came, he just cried out, his cum shooting across Potter’s belly. Every single one of Draco’s muscles were involuntarily stiff again, but this time it was with pleasure. There was only a glowing high and Potter’s hard cock that was still somehow slamming into him.

Draco only had a second to realize he’d failed and came before Potter had, then Potter was crying out, leaving Draco’s used passage slick with his cum. 

****

Hours later saw Pansy in the boys dorms, sitting on the bed across from Draco's bed, and clearing her throat.

Potter flailed awake and somehow managed to pull a wand out of Draco's arse along with his soft little, Potter cock. Pansy stopped herself from making a comment, even as he aimed the wand at her. Draco, it seemed, didn't wake up until he'd smacked the floor and that, Pansy had to comment on.

"Morning, princess," she drawled as Draco sat up and glared at her. Then, "Potter," she added as she noticed Potter turning beet red, flailing some more to cover himself with Draco's tiny skirt, and shove on his glasses. 

"Pansy, what--" Draco started but she cut him off as she stood.

"Dinner's in ten minutes and Theo said he'd really like to be able to change out of his robes without life scarring next time," Pansy relayed and then stepped out of the room. "Oh," she called then popped her head back in, "and Blaise said twenty points to Slytherin for not fucking it up, Draco."

Draco cursed her on her way out.

It was around this time when Hermione’s day took yet another interesting spin. 

She was sitting in the library when suddenly a tall, dark Slytherin slid into the seat across from her. She looked up from her homework to find Blaise Zabini sitting there. 

“I don’t know where they went,” Hermione announced, already feeling slightly guilty for pushing Harry at Malfoy to sate her own curiosity. “I checked Gryffindor.”

“Oh, they’re in the dungeons . . .” Zabini drawled, his face unreadable. 

Hermione frowned and gestured to her homework. “Then what exactly can I help you with?” she asked, feeling extremely guilty. 

“Surely, we can have one civil conversation," Blaise chuckled. "I just want to know your opinion on Potter’s . . . affection toward Draco.”

Blaise seemed to find his own words amusing and Hermione found herself holding off a wry grin of her own. “Affection?” she repeated. “I’d say it’s more a bit of curiosity.” _I hope_ , she didn't say out loud. 

The Slytherin frowned.

“Look, I don’t exactly know what you want from me, but surely you’re not worried about Harry hurting Malfoy’s feelings, are you?” Hermione asked, worried about exactly the opposite. 

“You might not get it, Granger,” Zabini started, ignoring the glare his tone earned him. “But everyone in Slytherin knows about Draco. Potter certainly wasn’t the first boy to notice him because of his style, but . . . well, let’s just say none of his previous attempts at hooking up have gone this far, and not for Draco’s lack of trying either.”

“Gone this far?” Hermione asked weakly, not liking where it seemed this was heading.

“Draco hasn’t actually ever gotten another boy in his bed,” Zabini elaborated. "Every time he manages to catch one they figure out that he’s still Draco Malfoy before things can get that far.”

“And you have reason to believe they’re taking it this far . . . today?” Hermione said carefully, trying to hold back her nerves. She should have never pushed him. Harry wasn’t the type for one-night stands. He was the type for long term, angst filled crushes that maybe had some kissing going on. Hermione hadn’t a clue how Harry would handle hooking up with Malfoy then being dropped. Okay, she had a clue, she just really didn’t want to believe it true at the moment. 

“Most definitely.” Zabini nodded. “They seemed to have went there. Apparently, Draco didn’t have enough time to scare him off. So, now you can see what has me worried? After being rejected that many times, Draco would just about have a fit large enough to get him sent to St. Mungo’s if the Golden Boy hooked up with him, only to realize post-coitus that Draco is still the selfish, nasty prick that Potter’s always despised.”

“And that’s what has you all worried.” Hermione sighed, because she saw his point, she truly did, but she also knew better. They had much bigger problems on their hands than Malfoy’s apparently delicate emotions. “Oh . . . this could very well end in disaster, Zabini,” she decided eventually. 

“What makes you say that?” Zabini asked, some worry eating away at his calm facade. 

“Well, you see, the thing about Harry is . . . he’s sort of got this . . . protectiveness about him that could very well sometimes be mistaken for possessiveness or . . . maybe obsession?”

"Obsession," Zabini deadpanned. 

"Well . . ." Hermione sighed again. "Harry doesn't have much experience in having his own things. Not presents, clothing, or . . . friends, really. Certainly not lovers. He doesn't open up easily and once he does it can sometimes be a little . . . intense. I can only imagine how Harry would act toward his first . . . pretty much everything."

Zabini eyed her for a long minute and then suddenly burst out laughing. "Oh . . . Granger," he said after a moment. "You said that like it was a bad thing." 

"Isn’t it?"

Zabini laughed some more.

"I think you have seriously underestimated the amount of attention Draco actually requires to survive," he drawled at last and though Harry couldn't have heard him, in that moment he was learning the truth behind Zabini's statement. 

"Merlin, Potter!" Malfoy snapped as he quickly righted himself and sat down with a straight back on the edge of the bed. "Couldn't even bother to take off my shoes," he sneered as he unlaced one and placed it gently on the floor. Though Harry noted that the other one was suspiciously absent already. Harry would find that other shoe if it was the last thing he did . . . in a few moments that was. 

Harry fell back on the mattress and yawned before he asked, "aren't you wearing those to dinner?"

"Not a chance in hell," Malfoy spat with even more venom. Harry sighed and listened as he began to shuffle about and rant. "You think I fancy walking around in those things after sleeping in them for hours?" he asked as he pulled up his sock and stomped over to the door. Then, "why? Because you want me to, Potter?" as he slammed the door shut. "Well, I refuse to suffer on your account," he added as came back over and ripped his skirt from Harry's grasp. 

Harry let him take the clothing but quickly snatched up Malfoy instead and pulled him back on the bed. "Shut up," Harry grumbled as Malfoy wriggled around and huffed but just managed to get himself more tangled up with Harry's limbs. "I don't care about the heels, you stupid git," Harry sort of lied. "Just your skin," he continued, which was much truer somehow. "I liked seeing it."

Malfoy started to protest so Harry fingered a bruise he'd left on Malfoy's thigh and whispered in his ear, "I wouldn't mind everyone seeing what I just did to you. Having everyone's eyes on me because I walk in to the Great Hall with you next to me looking like sex on legs is attention I wouldn't have to try hard to get used to."

"My feet still hurt," Malfoy said with a halfhearted sneer . . . and to Draco's surprise Harry Potter happily rubbed them until they didn't.

****

Harry and Draco walked side by side into dinner feeling grand about life in general. It was like the entire hall took a collective gasp as Harry Potter smacked Draco Malfoy on the arse and were afraid to let it out until Draco Malfoy smirked at Harry Potter and swayed away toward the Slytherin table with his pointy nose upturned like his neck wasn't covered in hickies. 

Even after Malfoy slid into the seat next to Pansy and poured himself a glass of water, the rest of the hall was completely silent and motionless. It wasn't until Snape groaned out loud did the entire hall blink as one unit and process what the fuck they just saw.

Pansy seemed to recover quickly and breathed out a laugh, whispering something in Malfoy's ear that Harry couldn't have heard. Malfoy and Pansy grinned evilly at each other and all Slytherin seemed to grin with them.

Well, the hall may have quickly sparked with chatter, but Harry was smiling anyway, Hermione was too busy rolling her eyes at Zabini's smirking face to take notice, and Ron couldn't have known having been absent, finally off checking the hospital wing for Harry (he would hear all about it from Dobby in about ten minutes when the excited house elf cornered him in the hallway and wouldn't shut up). 

Snape groaned again at the amused look Dumbledore sent his way. Though Snape could admit it to himself, Harry Potter was certainly very different from his father.

However, in Snape's eyes, being compared to Sirius Black wasn't much better.


End file.
